“He killed Dinan!”
“He must have been after one of the priestesses!”
“But which one?”
This time it was the Arch-Druid who brought silence by striking the floor with his staff. “Who are you, fellow, and what were you doing here?”
Eilan shut her eyes, hoping no one would notice that the man’s ripped tunic was made from good Roman cloth. Even grimed with blood and dust she knew Gaius, but perhaps no one else would, if she made no sign. Did he come here for Senara, she wondered, or for his son?
“Don’t you recognize him, Lord Druid?” Dieda pushed her way forward. Eilan winced at the edge in her laughter. “Well, perhaps he is not so handsome now. Your men have netted a fine pig for our feasting. If you look, you will see the scar of the boar pit on his shoulder there.”
Bendeigid should have been your father, thought Eilan hysterically, and Ardanos mine! They pulled the prisoner’s head up and for a moment he met her appalled gaze, then the sense left his eyes once more.
“You!” Bendeigid’s voice held mingled astonishment and fury. “Have you not done enough damage to me and mine that you should trouble us now?” Suddenly his expression changed. “Well, you shall do so no longer. Dieda, show my men where they can bathe him and tend his wounds, but by no means unbind him. Garic and Vedras”—he pointed to the two most senior Druids—“we must talk. The rest of you, leave us alone!”
The priests dragged Gaius away and the room emptied. Eilan sat back in her chair, wondering whether the pain in her belly was an echo of the throbbing in her head, or fear.
“I see that you know the man,” said Vedras, the elder of the two Druids who had remained. “Who is he?”
“His name is Gaius Macellius Severus the younger,” snarled Bendeigid.
“The Prefect’s son!” exclaimed Garic. “Do you think he came for one of the priestesses as they say?”
“It does not matter why he came,” said Vedras. “We must get him out of here. The Red-cloaks would deny our right to punish even an ordinary legionary. The gods alone know what they will do to us for laying hands on a chieftain’s son!”
“Indeed.” Bendeigid smiled craftily. “But I do not believe his own people know where he has gone. And no one here knows his name or even that he is a Roman but Dieda and ourselves.”
“Then you mean to kill him secretly?”
“Not secretly.” Bendeigid’s gaze burned like a flame. “Do not you understand? For such a man as this to deliver himself into our hands is a sign from the gods. Let his death at least serve some purpose. We will never find a more noble offering!”
He turned to Garic. “Go tell the men who are guarding the prisoner to dress him in the finest robe you can find.”
Eilan felt a chill lift the hair on her arms. An image of the Year-King walking through the Beltane fair came to her, garlanded and clad in an embroidered tunic.
“And if the Romans learn of it?” asked Vedras.
“It is true, their wrath will be terrible,” said the Arch-Druid triumphantly. “So terrible that even those who call for peace now will have no choice but to follow us to war!”
For a long moment, the other Druid looked at him. Then he nodded, and followed Garic out the door.
“Did Gaius come with your knowledge, Eilan?” Bendeigid asked when they were alone. “Have you been seeing this monster all along?”
“I have not,” she whispered, “by the Goddess I swear it!”
“I suppose it does not matter whether I believe you,” the Arch-Druid muttered. “All truth will be tested at the Samaine fire.”